Second Chance Love (6 page)

“It’s not a big deal. Steve and I were best friends all through high school. His parents were rich, mine were poor. It didn’t matter, we did everything together. We both got accepted to the same school. We’d always been just friends, but eventually I realized that I felt more than that for him. Finally, halfway through our freshman year of college, I decided to tell him how I felt, but the night I was going to tell him, his father had a heart attack and died. His mother asked him to leave school and take over their family business. He left, and I never saw or talked to him again for twenty years, until two days ago.”

She looked at the clock.
9:17. It took me less than two minutes to sum up the most important relationship of my whole life. I'm not sure what that says about me. What I am sure of is this: the clothes in my closet will not do to wear to this Winterland thing.

She looked at Gail, who had started talking as soon as she had finished her story. Elizabeth tried to tune in mid-stream. “…and I don’t know about you, but personally, if a fine-dressed man like that pulls up in that Mercedes I saw him get back into, I wouldn’t make him work so hard to get close to the wonder that is me. Everybody’s different, I know, but…”

“Gail. Gail. GAIL!”

“What?” One of Gail's many virtues was that she accepted all interruptions without taking offense.

“You got me into this situation, now what are we going to do about it?”

“Oh that? Psshh. No problem. I’ve got dozens of beautiful gowns for us to look at. They may be a little older, but you can bet your sweet patootie, no other woman’s going to show up wearing the same thing. When the night comes, you come down to the shop at closing time and we’ll get you all fixed up. I’ve got a friend that does hair and makeup and she owes me a favor. We’ll make you up like Cinderella going to the ball.”

Elizabeth sighed. She hated mingling with strangers, especially snooty strangers who worried about superficial things like how people dressed, but the image of Steve came back. Self-assured Steve, wanting for no material thing on earth, able to speak words of command and dispatch clothiers and cell phone delivery, nervous, like a teenager asking out his first crush—and she felt warm inside.

Chapter Ten

Lizzie thought the three weeks would pass like they always had, one day blending quickly into another, but they didn't. The days dragged. More than once, she thought maybe she had been too hasty in turning down Steve’s offer of a cell phone.
It would be so nice just to hear his voice, see what his day was like, what he is thinking.

When January 18
^th
finally arrived, she went to the bookstore and worked her normal day, closing right at four just like every Saturday. She locked up and walked two doors down to Faded Memories. There was something odd and dim about the lighting inside. The overhead fluorescent lights were off. The store was lit by three lamps, each with a brightly colored scarf draped over it, casting a warm and slightly psychedelic glow. A chair and mirror sat on one side of the room. Next to them sat a table with a bottle of opened, recorked champagne. Elizabeth saw Gail, smiling like a proud mom, and wrapped both arms around her and hugged her close. “You didn’t need to do all this.”

“What else was I going to do with my Saturday night, stay home and watch HBO? This is a rare opportunity for me and I thought we might as well make a night of it. I will pour us some bubbly. My friend Perri is going to do your hair and makeup, but she’s not here quite yet." Gail continued her monologue all through the pouring, settling and topping of two champagne splits. "Here. Here's to living a little. Now c’mon and let me show you the dresses I’ve got for you to choose from.”

A horizontal clothing rack at the back of the shop held a number of formal dresses, none of them anything Elizabeth had ever imagined wearing.

“I have spent the last three weeks looking through our inventory, setting aside every beautiful gown that I thought might fit you,” Gail said, gesturing to the rack. “But then, this morning, a woman from the Eastside stopped in with a whole collection, and I found this…” She reached inside the dressing room and brandished a floor-length silver gown that shimmered in the soft light. “As soon as I saw it, I knew you didn’t even need to see these others. I knew this was the one. What do you think?”

I think it would cost more than a month's salary.
“It’s lovely, really, but… it looks so expensive. What if I ruin it?”

Gail gave her the 'get serious, girlfriend' look. “Are you in the habit of ruining your clothes? I don’t think so, because you’ve been wearing that same sweater and pants for the entire ten years I’ve known you. Now, you don’t have to pick this one. You can pick one of
these
,” she said with a sniff, indicating the dresses hanging on the rack, "but you definitely have to at least try it on. C’mon, go on in while we wait for Perri to get here.”

Elizabeth succumbed. She nodded, took the dress and went into the dressing room.

“I put a new slip in there for you, too,” Gail called.

“Thank you, you’ve thought of everything. I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“We’ll consider it partial repayment for the thousands of cups of coffee I’ve bummed off you for the last ten years.”

Elizabeth took off her practical shoes and thick socks, standing barefoot as she finished undressing. She put on the slip, then took the gown off the satin-padded hanger and slipped it over her shoulders.
When was the last time I wore something like this? Oh, about twenty-one years ago...when I went to the senior prom with Steve.
A thin red sash tightened around the middle, accentuating her small waist and the curve of her hip. It fit her form perfectly, and in heels, the length would be just right.
How did Gail eyeball this, and me, and match us up? And why am I afraid to go out, as if it were a firing squad?

She took a deep breath, pulled the curtain back and stepped outside. A short, round woman had joined Gail, who was in mid-sentence. When the curtain swished, Gail turned to look—and fell silent.

Two seconds passed. “Oh my God, girl, look at you. Off the cover of
Vogue
or the runways of Paris or whatever you might want to say. I knew it would look good on you, but I didn’t know it was going to do…
that.”

Elizabeth looked down at herself and blushed a little. “It does seem to fit all right, doesn’t it?”

“All right?” Gail said. “Yes, it is ‘all right’ like Colin Firth and Denzel Washington are ‘all right.’ Honey, did you not see yourself? What do you think the mirror is for? You are a knockout.”

The short woman stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Perri. Gail's right, that looks...wow. I’m going to do your hair and makeup. Although,” she said, stepping forward to adjust the dress at the bustline, “with this dress, I don’t know if your man will even notice.”

Ninety minutes later, the first champagne bottle was empty and a second was half gone when Perri pronounced the work complete. Gail had found a pair of red heels in Elizabeth’s size, and finished up with a small red clutch and shoulder wrap to go with the dress. Perri had swept Elizabeth's hair up in a simple up-do, leaving a few soft curls to frame her face. She had gone lightly with the makeup, having ascertained early on that Elizabeth rarely wore any, just highlighting her cheekbones and sea-green eyes.

Gail insisted on taking a picture on her phone, then handed Elizabeth a bag with her clothes and shoes in it. “Here you go, sweetheart, for after midnight, in case his Mercedes turns into a pumpkin, you’ll need your walking shoes.”

Elizabeth hugged her again, careful not to muss anything. “I never could have done this without you. Thank you, Gail. You're so thoughtful. Thank you for everything.” She hugged Perri. "What a wonderful job. I hope people pay you a lot for what you do."

Perri's eyes sparkled. Gail swelled a little. “Just remember this the next time I nag you because you’re out of creamer again. Go on now, you don’t want to keep him waiting. Although, after waiting twenty years, he’d probably wait five minutes more.”

Elizabeth slipped the wrap around her shoulders and stepped out into the cold January night. Before she reached the shop, she saw him first, leaning against his Mercedes. He wore a dark tuxedo, white shirt and black tie.
This feels so prommy! I hope I don't regress and act like a high school girl. My god, I'm taller than him in these heels.

“Steve. You’re here early.”

Steve jumped a bit. He hadn't recognized her. An open-mouthed smile spread over his face. “Lizzie! I almost didn’t recognize you. My goodness, you look… spectacular.”

Elizabeth dimpled and looked down. “I had a lot of help.”

“You don’t need any help. You always were the most beautiful girl I ever saw. Still are. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Steve. It surprised me,” she said calmly.

“Good. I'm growing on you. Though I hope not like athlete's foot or something."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “In some ways, you haven't changed since Washington Junior High. Let me drop this bag off at the store and we can go.”

“Are you hungry? I’ve got a special treat for us tonight. Shall we?” Steve walked to the passenger door, opened it up, like a gull’s wing, and let her settle her gown before closing the door with a firm, quiet push.
Elizabeth looked around the interior of the Mercedes, all soft leather and glowing lights.
I don't remember the last time I was even in a car, but I know it wasn't one like this. So low and fancy. I feel like I should hold up my gown so it doesn't drag on the ground.

“Where are we going for dinner?”
God, let it be a place where I know what all the utensils are for...

“I thought I’d take you to Maybelle’s. It’s my favorite place to eat. I hope it’s not too plain.”

Steve soon pulled into a small, uneven parking lot beside an old train car displaying a red neon sign: MAYBELLE'S HOME COOKIN'. “I know it’s not fancy, but I love it here. I love the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but you can’t go wrong with whatever you order.”

For the first time since Steve had picked her up, Elizabeth let herself smile. “It looks perfect to me. You don't think we'll stand out, do you?”

Steve laughed, jumped out and hustled around to open the passenger door. She thought to decline his hand, then realized it would be like climbing out of a deep well unassisted, especially in heels. His hand felt warm and strong as he steadied her exit from the SLS. She straightened her gown, took his arm and went with him up the steps into the railcar.

The whole place smelled of home cooking, warmth and comfort. Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed it in. Steve looked at her and smiled.

“I know,” he said, “You can gain five pounds just from the smell.”

“As I live and breathe,” came a loud voice from the long window that opened into the kitchen, “Steve Larson with a date. I’ll have to check the sun in the morning to see if it’s still coming up in the east.”

Steve blushed a little, but smiled. The kitchen door swung open, and a large, powerful woman in a white uniform and apron appeared. “Maybelle, this is Elizabeth. Lizzie, this is Maybelle. She runs a spare-tire shop, as you can tell by my waistline.” Maybelle engulfed Steve in a hug, or perhaps an amateur chiropractic adjustment, then turned and looked Elizabeth over. Elizabeth shifted a bit from side to side. Maybelle finally reached out her hand. “Hello, Elizabeth, welcome to my place. Let’s get you your normal spot in the corner, Steve.”

Steve nodded and said “Hello,” to several other diners on the way back. Most wore working-class clothes.
Amazing,
thought Elizabeth.
They either don't notice our clothing, or they don't care. They aren't awed by the rich guy. They know him, and they like him. Am I wrong about his world versus mine?
Steve helped her into the booth, then sat down across from her.

When they were settled in, Maybelle said, “Julie Ann will be right out to take your order.” She looked at Steve over her half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose and said, “Try not to blow this.” They could still hear her laughing as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Steve said.

“Sorry for what? I love her. She’s a happy soul that puts you in your place. You probably need more of that in your life.”

“So what did I miss while I was away?” Steve said.

“Not all that much. We got a big order of used books in at the store. That kept me busy for a few weeks. Books are easier to come by these days, and Mr. Bartleby can’t resist when he sees a collection for sale at a good price. No matter how big the collection is, he always thinks I can find room for it.”

“And do you?”

“So far, but we’re getting pretty full. Our sales have been slower, but he’s been buying more and more. Eventually, something’s going to give. What about you? How was Japan?”

“Japan was fine. It was kind of the wrong time of the year to go there, if you want to enjoy the weather. Maybe we could go in the spring and see the cherry blossoms. Honestly, I spent most of my time thinking about you and what an idiot I was for leaving you the day after I found you again.”

The meal went by in a flurry of comfort food and reminisces.

Elizabeth finally pushed her plate away. “If I eat the rest of those mashed potatoes, I don’t think this dress will fit me like it’s supposed to. Thank you for bringing me here. I can tell it’s special to you.”

When the plates had been cleared away, and Steve had defended them against all Maybelle's attempts to stuff deep-dish apple pie into them, he looked at his watch. “We better go. We don’t want to keep Mother waiting.”

Elizabeth’s heart lurched a bit. “Oh, is your mother going to be there?”

“God, yes,” Steve said as he put a $50 bill on the table and helped Elizabeth on with her wrap. “If there’s a charity event being held within a fifty-mile radius, she’s there. It’s really been her life since Dad died.”

Margaret Larson and Elizabeth had never had a warm relationship. When they were young, she didn’t forbid Steve from being friends with Elizabeth, but neither did she conceal her feelings: Steve should choose his friends from the same social circle. After Steve had answered his mother's call to come home from college, Elizabeth had wondered if breaking up their friendship had been a secondary motive. Elizabeth smiled tightly. “How nice.”